Slice Of Life
by Feilyn
Summary: Sunday mornings, it’s the piano that wakes her. Monday through Fridays it’s the alarm clock; Saturdays she’s usually still awake from Friday night work. Sundays, however, belong to them, and in the morning it’s the piano that wakes her. HaruTamaKyo


_Just a little something that's been floating around my laptop for a few months. I thought I'd finally put and ending to it in lieu of working on one of the chapter fics. Enjoy!_

xXx

Sunday mornings, it's the piano that wakes her.

Monday through Fridays it's the alarm clock; Saturdays she's usually still awake from Friday night work.

Sundays, however, belong to them, and in the morning it's the piano that wakes her.

She drags on a discarded shirt, and she can always tell the difference between Kyouya's and Tamaki's (it's never hers, for some reason), because Kyouya's has the buttons and Tamaki's is the oversized sweatshirt (well, oversized to her) in the garish colours. Either one hits her at mid thigh so she doesn't bother with the pants, padding her way down the hall to the kitchen.

It's not a mansion they live in, she insisted on that rather firmly, but nonetheless it is still a very large house so by the end of the walk she's wishing that she'd remembered _last_ Sunday where her feet were just as cold. Kyouya's still in bed, of course, despite Tamaki's music, and if she goes back she'll wake him.

Even she's not brave enough to do that.

The coffee is ready and steaming for her already - somehow Tamaki always knows when she'll wake up on the lazy Sunday mornings, although he always seems surprised when the alarm goes off at six sharp on weekdays.

She sips it thankfully, noting that it's exactly the way she likes it, although black-one-sugar isn't that easy to mess up, even for him. Tugging the hem of the shirt down a little, she wanders back up the hallway into the lounge.

Being tone deaf, she has no idea what Tamaki's playing. Something light and airy, ridiculously upbeat - much like him himself, when she thinks on it. She likes it though, curling up onto the couch and closing her eyes, letting the music wash over her.

She would thank the blonde for the coffee, but she's learnt over years that on these Sunday mornings, he probably won't hear her. She loves this part of him (although she loves all parts of him), loves listening to him lose himself in the music.

The playing continues until she is out of coffee, which just so happens to be when Kyouya stumbles into the room. She rather likes to think that they are the only people in the world who have ever seen him stumble, and she's probably right. Tamaki greets him with an exuberant hug and is promptly shoved to the ground, although it's gently, gently. Nonetheless, he kicks up such a fuss that when hugs for reparation are demanded, they are dispensed without hesitation. Sometimes, a person will do anything to get Tamaki to just shut _up_. Anything for Kyouya being the complete loss of his dignity, which really says more than words exactly how much he loves the other man. It also speaks somewhat of his love for her, that he's letting her see his complete embarrassment as Tamaki mauls him.

Then again, as the mauling turns to kissing and she watches with an intrigued smile on her face, head cocked slightly to the side, it could just be that Kyouya is manipulative enough to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of a damn good morning kiss (neither of them ever have morning breath, a secret she still hasn't figured out to this day).

Kyouya pulls away and is chased briefly by Tamaki's mouth before an apathetic hand to the blonde's face stops him. This time the stoic man ignores Tamaki's wails, wandering over to her to steal a kiss that is surely too hot and wonderful for the early morning. She can feel his smirk curl against her lips as he draws a reluctant moan from her - she's not one for making noise and never has been.

Then Tamaki, of course, howls something about how Daddy is being left out and for a moment it's all vaguely incestuous before Kyouya thwaps him over the head and tells him to stop calling her Daughter.

And from there it segues into morning sex on the couch and for a brief moment Haruhi wonders how exactly life turned out like this before deciding it doesn't really matter, so long as it did.

xXx

_So, that was my first foray into the realm of Ouran. Thought I'd better put something up, seeing as the poll demands it with a ridiculous amount of votes. Although I doubt a threesome was what most people were thinking of._


End file.
